Heatwave
by Miharu is Harukas Love Child 2
Summary: Everyone thinks of California as some glamorous oasis: the sandy beaches, the movie stars, the rich extravagant lifestyles, the amazing night-life of alcohol and strobe lights... There was a time when I believed in the fairy tale. Matt POV. Implied M/M


**Heatwave**

**A/N:** This was originally posted on Manga Bullet as a comment fic...back when Manga Bullet existed. But I liked it, so here you go! The prompt was "heatwave"

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Everyone thinks of California as some glamorous oasis: the sandy beaches, the movie stars, the rich extravagant lifestyles, the amazing night-life of alcohol and strobe lights...

There was a time when I believed in the fairy tale.

That is...until I fucking _moved_ there!

First fucking day in LA, I nearly crash driving on the wrong side of the road. And then at a gas station, some piece of shit homeboy popped my hubcaps! He nearly got away with them too, 'cept Mello scared him so bad he was going to need a new pair of pants. If you ask me, we did him a favor. I mean, who the fuck wears their jeans so baggy that they slip lower than the ass, and _then_ ties fucking rubber bands around the ankles to make them balloon above their sneakers? American teens are idiots.

The people in Los Angeles are soo _friendly_ too. The first time we met the old lady who lived in the apartment across from us, I just happened to have a cigarette dangling from my lips.

She grabbed it shouting something like, "Oye, puto! No te fumes ahi. Dame ese frajo." a

And she chucked it out the window muttering, "Pinches güeros y sus pendejadas."

Umn...she actually flipped me off.

And then...oh God! There was the earthquake...I really don't give a fuck what the San Andreas Fault is, but shit, when that baby hit, it sent 3 of my laptops crashing to the floor! And my Wii shattered on impact with the tile! I swear I was shaking for hours, but from emotional aftershocks...not even sex with Mello could console me.

But none of those shitty things come even close to the hell I'm living through right now.

The temperature is in the triple digits (why the _fuck_ can't Americans use Celsius like the rest of the world?). The air is so dry I'm getting nose bleeds every few hours and I can't play my MMORPGs because the laptops keep overheating. I'm physically drained from how damn fucking hot it is and to top that, there's been a power outage so not only has all the food in the fridge spoiled, we can't even make ice for fuck's sake!

But what really makes this heat-wave unbearable is the way it affects Mello. Because heat this intense, this feverish, this fucked up...it reminds him of the explosion. He just sits there, fingers grazing the melted side of his face. He doesn't respond when I talk to him. He doesn't smile. He doesn't even throw tantrums when he runs out of chocolate. Fuck, Mello won't even bitch about wanting to beat Near. It's depressing as hell.

No matter how many times I kiss him, tell him how beautiful he is, make love to him...I know I'm fighting a losing battle. Somewhere behind the blankness in his glazed eyes, I know he's reliving the nightmare, smelling his burning flesh and screaming...He's lost in the memory of it and I can't reach him there. He's fighting alone in a fire he can't escape, in a place where my love can't penetrate.

So I hate the fucking heat with all my being, because even if it's only for a short time, it's stealing from me the one thing that makes my life worth living.

It's taking Mello from me.

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**A/N**: I'm Mexican-American and I live in Los Angeles, so I used the spanish I grew up around, which isn't the kind you'll find in a text book. I think it _sorta_ translates into "Hey, bastard! Don't you smoke there! Give me that joint. Fucking white people and their shit."  
Oh and the rubber bands thing on the bottom of over-sized jeans is a real gangster fashion reminiscent of 1940's Mexican-American Zoot Suit gangsters who wore pants ballooned out in a similar way. Guys in my Southern California High school tried be all homie and gangsta wearing their pants with those rubber bands. They looked effing ratchet.


End file.
